Darkened Whispers
by Britt601
Summary: A collections of ficlets concerning Dante's Doppelganger. Rated M for the insane stuff yet to some.
1. Trial

_Disclaimer_: I do no own Devil May Cry or its characters, nor am I making profit from this written work.

So, with my fascination with Dante's Doppelganger, I've decided to write little bits and pieces about what I imagine his dark side to be, and this stuff is what I came up with. 0_0

Rated _M_ for violence, blood, gore and sexuality.

* * *

Trial

Night dawned with a fierce presence. The city awakened with colored lights illuminating dark crevices, filling the streets with copious amounts of joyous life prowling around in bliss.

Cynical, ignorant bliss

Behind this show of camaraderie lied a dormant personality under each body of flesh, scouring for a drastic opportunity for their true inner selves to come to light. The widened smiles, the loud boisterous laughter, the positive radiance of atmosphere concealed the monsters waiting to be unleashed. Cages rattled against the carefully guarded control their owners tried so _hard_ to keep.

It was pathetic.

The lies told to protect the truth under their masks came to such extreme prices to conceal the matter, it was no marvel what lengths people will go through to guard it. The woman who pretended to be single when married with children pursued another, then blamed the _husband_ for her dishonest actions. The district attorney who fought for a victim's justice retreated to underground sex clubs to _indulge_ his desires from kidnapped teenage boys. The grandfather who told each of his grandchildren he loved them _equally_ left his last wishes to the only grandchild he could stand.

"Such a waste it is to cover up the beautiful beast inside you."

There was a tall man walking along the plethora of writhing bodies, towering over most of the inhabitants staring with a variety of expressions. Women stared at his deep, crimson irises surrounded by onyx-hued sclearas. They gazed upon his shapely eyes, aquiline nose, succulent lips and strong jaw line. Fingers twitched in longing anticipation to run them through ebony locks, and to rub sensuously on tanned skin.

Men sent wordless glares at his wide muscular form, envy simmering in their beings for their diminutive statures and auras dwarfed in comparison to his own.

Hm, perhaps some of the sad sacks of flesh let their inner monsters out of their cages while on a short leash, letting the internal beasts _taste_ the rising jealousy in the air.

Ah, the aches emerging from the lack of attributes another _wishes_ to possess filled the tall man with laughter. So typical and naïve are humans to fantasize over mundane things, and it proved even funnier when they acted on them. It was in the environment all around him. Women envied other women for their curvaceous figures, petite figures, small breasts, large breasts, short hair, long hair, thick legs, slim legs, eye color, nose shape, skin tone...all the superficial characteristics in an unattainable goal for perfection.

"Hey buddy, the gay rodeo ended in the 80's!"

And the males, on this night, were rather verbal about their bitterness.

A group of four young men passed him, looking no more than eighteen years of age, made comments on his attire. As it goes, his outfit consisted of _black_ leather. A long trench coat, a zip-up shirt, a belted holster, cowboy chaps and gloves with the thumb and forefinger missing. The jeans he wore underneath the chaps and his shoes were the only things _not_ made of the animal skin. Of course he could pick other choices in clothing, but this served as his default choice... styled _after_ another.

His biological nature thrived as... a shadow if you will, a doppelgänger born out of Dante's antipathy and malice for his natural tendencies, what the hybrid bastard _shoved _deep inside his core to protect himself from others. The _beast_ incarnate, mostly. The tall man manifested from the repressed and corrupt soul of the half-human, half-demon devil hunter and this get-up was originally worn by the half-bred bitch, yet fashioned in a mixture of red and black. But he didn't mind it though, too much. Cowboy gear? Maybe. Flamboyant? Probably. Outlandish? That's up for debate. However, unlike the collective masses of human swine trying to impress each other with materialistic appearances, his clothing didn't make him who he _is_.

Besides, what's the point of enjoying a night on the town without having dinner?

"All dat dude's missin' is a hat and some rope. Careful Aaron, he _might_ want you," the group continued heckling the man in the strange get-up, uncaring of their insensitive comments made towards him.

"Man, fuck you Randy. He yo' type! You can take dat _Brokeback Mountain_ bitch and _ride_ his rodeo." Aaron made little movements mimicking a rider bucking on a wild bull. More laughter from the teenagers erupted, gently shoving each other in lieu of the jokes told.

"Hey yo, cowboy. My homie wanna holla at 'chu-"

Behind the pale-skinned teen was a scene _devoid_ of the mystery man, leaving the only place he could have gone into was an alley. And for good reason, a weirdo walking around like that at night didn't need to be _seen_ by anyone. Aaron began to walk closer to his friends when something caught his eye, as if he _imagined _his shadow disappearing from the ground. He glanced around him in confusion for his shadow seemed to have _left_ him.

"Hey kid..."

This time he stopped and turned to view what was behind him, seeing nothing out of the ordinary except the passerbys vacating the area.

"Dude, hurry up!" Randy yelled some feet ahead, jesting on the other members on their articles of apparel.

"Yeah...hey where did that freak go..."

A menacing growl erupted behind him, causing Aaron to speed walk towards his companions. The sickly sweet smell of rotten flesh and the stench of piss suddenly permeated around him to scorch his nose; the growls emitted rising in volume as shivers rose up his spine. It smelled as if he actually _stood_ in that alley somewhere in the back of him.

"Eh man, what the fuck you doin'?" Randy threw the complaint over his shoulder.

Prior to Aaron uttering a reply a large black overcloud formed in front of him, towering over his lanky physique as the shaded blockade covered his frame. Through the murky curtain of obsidian fog large crimson irises penetrated into his brown ones, the teen feeling his muscles tightening as jagged teeth morphed into a dreadful smile. He opened his mouth to scream but his parched throat only allowed dry whimpers to escape.

Three young men heard a broken cry, followed be a throaty screech echoing against the walls surrounding them. Street lamps dimmed and flickered, casting deep jaded shadows throughout the avenue as the demented bellowing continued. Life gave the appearance of a barren region, as if _nothing_ ever flourished here. The cars once lining the sidewalks were no longer there along with the people. With the unspoken, mutual consensus that Aaron was in trouble they sprinted to the source to help their friend.

Previous to making the turn into the alley a harsh gurgle pierced their ears. A waterfall of blood vaulted in a violent gush _out_ of the back street, Randy becoming soaked in the vital lifeblood as he tumbled to the ground. The other members stopped and gasped in fear, breaths coming in shorter spurts, shaking their head in denial for those cries _came_ from Aaron. A stuttering wail broke through the stillness, igniting two of the teens to flee, leaving Randy all alone covered in the metallic scent.

A heavy dizziness settled in his mind, thoughts scrambling over each other to regain the concept of intellectual reasoning but to no avail. The teen trembled with every monotonous breath expanding his lungs, exhaling with shuddering air wheezing out in little whispers of fright. The physical impact of the sanguine liquid colliding into him stilled his movements, unable to control his body from the emission of a warm fluid running down his thighs. A jaw twitch forced his lower lip downwards, forming his mouth into an 'o' shape to try to speak.

Languid footsteps managed to reach his hearing, his brain signals telling him to turn his head to see who made the noise but he remained motionless. The footfalls grew louder in sound until they stopped right in front of him, noticing booted feet and the lower half of some black chaps...

"My, my. That was _quite_ the rodeo. That young bull sure didn't waste any time once I jumped on his saddle!"

Randy couldn't speak, too swollen with fear to voice his horror. Slowly, and with great effort, he looked upwards at the man he thought wore funny clothes, licking his lips with an extended tongue to wipe some blood off his cheek.

"I gotta to say―wait it's Randy, right?" Dark looked down at glassy eyes, unfazed by the terrified emotions fleeting through them. "Randy, I might have to come to you _again_ for a recommendation to another wild ride. Fuck, that was _tasty_. What, he didn't smoke or drink because that boy is, or, well _was_ pure. Aaron made a fine piece of steak!"

A tanned hand reached down and lightly patted his shoulder. The teen released a frightened shout, scooting away with hurt and bewildered eyes, looking at the man's lifted chin and wry smile. He appeared so calm and unflappable, abnormal eyes glittering in genuine mirth as the street lamps stopped flickering. It was as if this monster _enjoyed _doing this for a living.

Heavy boots turned to leave, hearing a dark chuckle filling the eerie quietness of the night. "Oh, by the way if we cross paths again, can you refer one to me whose head wasn't so full of shit." A ruby-stained oval the size of a ball rolled in Randy's direction, coming to a sudden stop before him. He took one look down and produced a high-pitched cry, starting to hyperventilate for Aaron stared up at him with those large brown eyes. "I wouldn't stomach that bullshit if it was the last thing on earth. See ya, buddy."

A light breeze picked up, billowing a black trench coat around the owner's lengthy legs. Debris scattered through the streets, carrying the scent of something sweeter than candy, tangier than pickles, juicer than fruit. To him, it was a luxury _abundant_ in its properties, able to nourish and satiate a desolate hunger purposefully sheltered by that hybrid _mongrel_. Oh yes, there was more than enough time to cultivate and supply his energies from being starved for so long.

The beast had fully awakened, ready to devour inner demons belonging to _any_ specimen and everything along with it.

"Oh what a _lovely_ evening this has been," chided Dark. A loud whistling of a tune aided his steps, vanishing into the clouded night like a creature born of stealth

"A...Aron," Randy managed to whisper, inching in small increments away from the decapitated head. It pained him to do anything. Moving hurt his insides. Attempting to talk hurt his brain. Inhaling the scent of copper made him nauseous. The incident happened too sudden to process, roving his soul into an indecisive state of mind. However, deep in his fragmented subconscious he knew this image will concoct into a beautiful nightmare for decades to come, constricting his sanity into a wasted individual.

The wind picked up in speed, blowing the head closer to Randy's downed position. As blue eyes shined with pools of salted water a shaky mouth let out a dry scream.

Aaron's tilted head looked up at him, his mouth forming into a wide smile.

* * *

A/N: You know how Dante's always saying he doesn't kill or harm humans (much)? I think when the need gets so bad that he _wants_ to do it, he represses the urge to do so, where as Dark Dante/doppelgänger would indulge himself without feeling any type of way afterwards.

I'm off to do more. Ciao!


	2. Restraint

Restraint

I couldn't take it anymore.

I've watched from the sidelines for a while now, anger boiling inside me as his restraint allowed the _undeserving_ to live.

It began about four months ago, before I separated from his soul.

For old times' sake I stood by his side in combat, mirroring his every action, confusing his foes as to which Dante was the real one. While we engaged the opposition I took heed as to how he reacted to different enemies. When it came to lesser demons belonging to the Hell family he battled them with extreme prejudice, extending the sword slashes and bullet wounds inflicted on the damned with malicious glee. The smirk he had morphed into a grin, then a predatory smile rivaling that of a true sadist.

He made me proud.

Battling the beefed up demonic "security guards" brought out his mischievous side, smack-talking his opponent as the urge to dominate their souls taunted his pride. He'd give them their props if their moves impressed him or if they lasted long enough. Often times they didn't surpass his strength, leaving him with an unsatisfied hunger he kept to himself, passing on that disappointment _into_ me.

In combat with devil lords he'd unleash whatever animosity he withheld in him, meddling into the animalistic territory he would rather do without. Dante preferred to leave his damned heritage out of the equation, or the monster lurking _inside_ of him. Dante's devil trigger was a beast drawn to the foundations of rage, murder, blood and fear. Depending on how tough the enemy or how much time he roved in this state, he could lose himself in the destructive force.

He despised it. I loved it.

Bunched up emotions was a _bad _thing to suppress. And that hybrid bitch participated in this act. He always had to be in control of himself, _refraining_ from getting rid of anything worth the hassle.

Like humans.

You see, Dante heard rumors of a demon named Argon kidnapping teenage boys and girls and selling them as cattle, however he had trouble linking the connections. So he took me along in secrecy to confront him. When he questioned the ringleader I would check out the area. And sure enough I found the captives stacked in six locked cages to the max. The warehouse they resided in boasted no furniture of the sort, boxes and truck trailers keeping the prisoners well-hidden from view.

A woman hollered from behind an iron-cast door. Using a technique I have known as 'phasing' I can merge with the shadows and 'transport' to any umbra of a shadow or a place lacking light. Needless to say I've been to some pretty _interesting_ places.

Once I phased inside the locked room I stood behind some crates, looking upon two naked males and a female chained to a wall. The stale stench of blood, human fluids and pheromones filled my nostrils, causing me to momentarily forget my mission and savor the oppressive air. Another scream tore from a woman's throat, slicing into my appreciation of the tantalizing scents. Pulling on the girl's nipples was a woman sporting sun-kissed skin with curled chestnut-brown hair. She continued pinching and twisting the sensitive nubs, laughing at the panic and pain she inflicted.

My kind of lady.

Yet as much as I wanted to nip her breasts, literally, something about her performance wasn't strong. I detected a lack of _pleasure_ from her ministrations. There was a detached enjoyment in her advances, deprived of any finesse to her applied torture. It almost seemed as if she was _forced_ to behave in this manner.

One of the males tried to empathize with her, filling her head with hypothetical occurrences. What would she do _if_ her child was in this position? What _if_ she were sold off as a sex slave, never to know the pleasures except that of sexual gratification not of her own will? He must have touched a soft spot for she back-handed him, stomping off with her features contorted into a vicious snarl.

Now, what a change. Normally I've seen humans forced into doing a demon's dirty work, but this little Lolita turned out to be Argon's play thing, by chance at _first_ glance. When I returned to Dante I told him there weren't _any_ prisoners that I found, but in place of my lie I mentioned my hearing of some workers receiving a shipment of slaves within the coming week. I asked him if he wanted me to keep close tabs in the area but he refused the help. Perhaps he didn't trust me or he believed in me fully; I couldn't really say.

Dante was the proclaimed 'keeper of humanity' so I felt the need to leave the rescuing to him, should he discover them. Chances are the idiots locked up like animals should blame themselves for getting captured. I can almost guarantee that more than half of those people in those cages put themselves there due to a lack of common sense. They were out late at night instead of at home. Someone slipped a drug in their drink while they weren't looking. A stranger offered them a ride or kidnapped them at gunpoint. Honestly, these sad sacks of flesh avoided basic logic on the simplest of matters.

With the half-bred moron occupying himself with the puzzle pieces of missing humans I entertained myself by following Argon's human-nipple twister, named Jessica Rose. Twenty-five years old. Brown hair. Blue eyes. I trailed her for a few days ever since she caught my eye. I knew where she lived, what car she drove and the vaginal lubricant she uses when Argon visited. She worked as a social worker by day, taking children from battered parents and placing them into positions of prostitution. I'm sure she made those foster kids wish they had stayed in their earlier predicament.

Argon spent many nights in her bed, forcing her on her knees as she suckled on that creepy dog-shaped dick he had. I don't know if she was forced to blow him or if she had a fetish, but he shot lengthy wads of green-colored jizz as appreciation of her talented efforts.

Talented efforts she wasted on _filth_ nevertheless, but I digress.

I noticed that he arranged a time to come over to her place, and his announcement made her nervous with anticipation from fear. She then expelled her jittery nerves _on_ the captives. Case in point, when he left her alone, she didn't bother the cattle and when he did, she resorted back to her nipple-pinching status.

How disappointing.

Turns out she wasn't the naughty little vixen I initially saw, but a mindless drone ruining childhoods for a piece of chump change. Granted I've seen mankind take advantage of others for _much_ less, it just amuses me when people act cowardly in response to threats when it could have been avoided. I guess she trapped herself into a situation where death would be absolute if she ever thought about escaping or turning Argon in. I didn't find anything out about her childhood concerning her upbringing nor did I care to, but she aimed to lie in the bed she made for herself.

I just _knew_ Dante would forget his righteous morals and serve her justice beyond any bearings of this faulty judicial system. She did a capital offense against her own kind and they didn't _deserve_ the right to supply her with any punishment; it would be too good for her. Those pitiful emotions would take a back seat and the mongrel's natural nature would resurface, sticking it to the cowardly bitch while I watch him find himself again.

I told him I found the human cargo on our second hunt, explaining how they stayed naked and chained to walls with bruises and welts littering their bodies. Jessica gained notoriety from my intel as well. I explained that she was responsible for supplying the inventory, getting her stock while working as a social worker. I also told him how some of the captives were tied to sex machines and forced to come for their potential buyers and if they didn't reach ecstasy, more contraptions licked the inside their genitals.

Okay, so I didn't _see_ that happen for myself but I needed to spice up the situation so Dante could let loose. I think my "enhanced" story meddling worked for he was in a _foul_ mood upon arrival at the warehouse.

The henchmen tried so hard to keep their livestock in their possession that they geared to _sacrifice_ the cattle just so Dante couldn't rescue them. To appear somewhat sympathetic to his 'save the humans' plight I prevented any of the guards from coming near the crates, hiding in the dark and unlit corners. Oh, the look of terror on their faces when their comrades vanished into my traps of shadows filled me with giggles. I took so much pleasure in playing the boogeyman it was almost criminal. I ignored the captive's startled cries, that was expected of them.

Rebellion thrusted forward between the slit of the exit, preventing the lackeys from scurrying away like rats. Having no choice but to confront the intruder the men surrounded him, armed to the teeth with assault rifles and shotguns. My grin stretched wide, splitting my face into two for I was damn sure this hybrid mongrel would lose his human heritage for a while.

Someone from inside the crate screamed and startled one of the gunmen, he in turn firing a barrage of bullets that ignited a chain reaction. In a flash Dante was on the ground, bullets holes piercing into his body as fear drove the bodyguards to hold down the trigger.

"Cease fire... dammit I said stop!" A tall man clearly on steroids shouted the command.

"Is he dead?" A pudgy teen in a blue hoodie and khakis asked with wary caution.

Oh ho ho, _far_ from it. I knew for a fact that scarlet idiot geared up to shred these assholes into chunks of flesh. I picked up on his raw energy awakening from his subdued conscious, thirsting for bloodshed in violation of its enforced slumber. I sensed the beast longing for hunger after the starvation it had to endure. I could taste its anger, hatred and despair. And all he needed was a little push to break free of its cage...

"How the hell did this fucker get in here?" Steroids inched to the fallen corpse, kicking him to make sure he was really dead. I have no clue why he would do that when nearly a thousand bullets entered Dante's form from all those guns. A human probably couldn't withstand ten slugs puncturing them, let alone a _thousand_. Maybe muscle head was right to think as he did.

"Huh, trying to play hero to these whores got you killed you white-haired freak!"

I gave him credit too soon.

"Now... why did you... shoot me up? I liked... this damn coat."

Enlarged eyeballs and opened mouths looked on in surprised horror as the cadaver spoke. Blood-stained boots pressed into the floor, followed by strong legs raising the body into a back bend. Dante lunged forward, the sound of metallic pinging filling the silence of the room; the bullet shells ejected from his wounds. Skin covered over the bloodied muscle healing the holes that once punctured his structure. Ivory skin peeked through his red and black ensemble. Frightened chatter erupted through the group, firearms shaking in wobbly hands for the man they shot up stood very much _alive._

Dante spit out a bullet he caught in his teeth with an irritated huff, looking over the entry points ruining his work garb. "You really don't know how much it costs me to keep these clothes mended."

Even though he jibed, his voice was a frozen storm sending violent shivers down their backs, freezing their veins with ice-cold hatred. Steroids looked ready to shit his pants, raising his assault rifle to re-kill the reanimated corpse when Dante fired first.

Whizzing bullets ricocheted off the walls; the specific angles it bounced off of knocked the firearms out of enemy hands. Some of them scrambled after their killing toys but Dante shot around them, causing them to remain in place. I haven't a clue why he didn't shoot the fuckers dead since they were already worthless, but that's... that's okay. There was still _time_ for him to unleash the beast.

The distinct music of broken bones added a subtle harmony to the half-assed orchestra the peeved orchestrator conducted. But as with most things providing entertainment, it jumps off to a slow start prior to picking up the pace... hopefully.

I watched with growing fascination as the men fell, cradling the injured parts of their body as they writhed on the floor. Each passing moment I anticipated on a broken neck or a heart ripped out because the beast was _right_ there. I could sense the animal pushing for control, desperate for its turn to taste the vile energies so abundant in the place. Yet that hybrid kept a leash on his demonic force with convincing determination, holding on strong to prevent the cage from breaking.

When the mongrel left Steroids last he picked him up by the scruff of his muscle shirt, pulling the bloodied mortal to his face with a snarl. In the briefest flash of a second I saw those blue irises change to red, the gritting of sharp canines on display in suppression from killing the bonehead.

Wait for it... wait... here it comes...

"How many more are you hiding?" Dante growled in anger.

"I don't know, man! I just make sure they stay put!"

"Wrong answer."

It's going to happen any minute now...

"I'm just the bodyguard. He tells... he tells me n-nothing but to secure this area. That's all man I swear!"

He glared upon the frightened flesh in distaste, mustering a countenance of contempt for the pathetic weakling. Instead of turning his insides out Dante threw him away from him, walking over to the crates with a cold expression. Many of the occupants scuttled back in fear as he beckoned for the double-edged broadsword to come to him. He withdrew Rebellion, unlocking the containers as Steroids had trouble picking up his shattered ego off the floor. One by one the humans walked out of their prisons, those who were too weak held on to each other as they slowly moved forward. A small teen with brown hair and green eyes hugged herself as tears streamed down her face, sprinting towards Dante as she bawled into his waist. Her broken sobs were interrupted as she gave fragile 'thank yous', afraid to let him go as if she might collapse right then and there. And she probably would, what with how skinny she looked.

His eyes blazed into the guardsmen on the floor. Whatever the scardey-cat saw in them had him shivering, the color draining from his visage to leave a sickly looking man. With a feminine yelp he started running away, reaching for something in his pants along the way. Yet the half-breed wasn't finished making that asshole _complete_ the shitting of his pants.

He took out his silver hand gun, aiming it in line with the limping mass of flesh.

And here it comes...

A shot rang out from the firearm, scaring the escapees to cower and crouch like wounded puppies. Steroids dropped to the ground, waiting on more bullets to ping through the area. After a while he slowly got up, checking himself to see if he was bleeding. A crazed smile smeared onto his face, gearing up to taunt the white-haired freak that he missed. Creaking noises filled the space for about ten seconds before a rod of fluorescent lights fell on the muscle head, knocking him unconscious.

What the fuck.

What in the hell is that mongrel doing? Why didn't he shoot the idiot dead? Did he _not_ hear how the bastard wanted to kill the cargo instead of having them rescued? For what reason did he allow him to live?

I tried to find a reasonable answer but nothing made sense. If Steroids went to jail, he would mostly serve less than half the time due to crowded prisons. And if there weren't any strikes on his record community service and probation provided his best bet. This asshole would have a slap to the wrist before freedom would be his to sabotage once again. If the cross-breed was able to empathize with these idiots and their afflicting plights, why didn't he annihilate those humans who preyed on their weaker counterparts? I found his methods hard to believe that Dante would let these mortals put their own detractors up for punishment when they already did a _shitty_ job at it.

So... what role does he play? Did he only involve himself when one side was at a greater disadvantage? Would he act in the same fashion if demons _weren't_ involved? Was killing them off-limits because he was only half of what they were? Yet he killed devils and he shared half of their biological make-up as well. Is it a power issue? He wouldn't touch the humans because they lacked physical strength?

_Fuck_, I don't understand it.

The crying brunette must have pulled at his heart-strings for he told the remaining individuals to follow him out to safety. I stayed behind in confusion of the hybrid's actions, watching how the pathetic men picked themselves up off the floor. A few of them asked where the other colleagues disappeared to, fear blanketing their sense of reason to flee. The pudgy teen yanked out a cell phone, presumably talking to the buyer of his escaped sex toy.

"I'm sorry Mr. Patterson... she's gone... I can't... I don't know... Some big guy with white hair and a red coat freed them... He shot up the place and rescued them... No, I don't know if he's a cop... No she ran up to him and he escorted her out... I know you had a deposit on her... We don't... we can't give you that back... The money was given to Jessica to make sure your package looked exactly like you wanted her to."

I reeled in my thoughts, mind set on searching for the main players responsible for this mess. Perhaps the reason Dante let these pieces of shit keep their lives was that they _indirectly_ participated in these acts. Maybe they weren't as hands on as Jessica and Argon and he left his beast locked up for them.

It's no wonder why his animal craved the blood thirst. The look-but-don't-touch mentality would drive anyone insane.

As subtle as I could be I phased to the darkest corners of the warehouse, planning to direct Dante to meet up with the nipple-twister. Though my jovial mood curbed its enthusiasm, I smiled as I threw the devoured, mangled bodies of the vanished henchmen into their friends, reveling in the frightened screams accompanying my exiting of the premises.

When we arrived I didn't expect her to be home, but instead I got a two for one deal. I phased into the dark house, unlocking a window so Dante could creep inside.

In the bedroom sounded off a cacophony of moans. On the bed lied a naked Jessica, legs spread apart while Argon thrusted into her. Her mouth spewed a string of passion-filled phrases, eyes taking on the expression of a body wanting to be released from an approaching climax. Obliging in her urgent demands he reached for a small cylinder toy to her side, turning on the buzzing object and sliding it up and down her clit. Her form arched into the sheets, grunts increasing in volume as he increased his pelvic snaps. She jerked as the pressure mounted in her lower belly, limbs twitching in fervor as the vibrator rested fully on her pert bundle of nerves.

How interesting. This woman seemed to have no qualms about kidnapping children and turning them over to a life of forced fucking for perverted men when she got to enjoy hers _without_ restriction. I couldn't wait to view the look on her face when she went downstairs to see Dante waiting for her, but I thought I should get a free preview of her profile before she died.

When her body succumbed to the plethoras of eye-rolling ecstasy I let her witness two bright orbs of crimson penetrate into the darkened room. Her expression of wanton bliss morphed into one of frightened disbelief, mewls of lust switching to a contorted screech of horror. It was my delight to watch her go from sweet agony to agony itself; oh how I wished I had a camera right then.

Argon pulled away with a wet plop, reaching for something in his discarded clothing. He aimed a pistol at the shadow I projected, the bullets disappearing into the black hole as my laughter filled the bedroom. Argon, like the chicken shit I sensed him to be, grabbed his pants and ran down the stairs. She wrapped herself in the blankets, scared shitless as I continued to laugh. Sending small tendrils of shadows all over the room I commanded them to shape into hands, letting her look at her purse, clothes and vibrators disappear into their fingers.

I had to keep her in here so Dante can unleash his true self when he finished with dog-dick. _She_ held responsibility for this mess. _She_ kidnapped children to have them sold. _She_ was the one who pinched nipples when under stress. Regardless whether Argon threatened her life, she had the option to say no. If her refusing to gather slaves for him meant ending her life, then tough shit. Sometimes the best choices in life aren't the easiest. So, since she was beyond salvation or forgiveness and those trapped kids made the hybrid's heart ache, all he needed to do was devour her soul.

Or tear her to little pieces, much to my preference.

The confrontation started to accumulate downstairs, Argon trying to bribe his way to innocence. I phased outside the bedroom to view the action because her shrieks began to annoy me. Dante had Ebony raised in his left hand as he sat on her loveseat, with Rebellion lying in wait on the side. The demon stuttered in shame as he covered his front with pieces of clothing. Typical with any person caught in a lie he tried to deny any involvement in the situation. Droplets of sweat formed on his brow as he rambled on, putting the blame on Jessica that it was her idea.

His patience ran out for a bullet blew the demon's brain and skeletal fragments against the wall. The look on the hybrid's face spoke of nothing but restrained rage ready to burst. He had to breathe through his mouth to control himself, but I knew it was too late. His usually calm and jesting demeanor pushed back to let the aggravation through, finger twitching on the gun to shoot Argon's body into a bloody pulp, only he didn't have to.

The demon shot out of his human shell, looking like a cross between a lion and a werewolf. It's massive talons aimed to strike at Dante's throat but he grabbed Rebellion's hilt and made a horizontal arc. Jade-hued liquid dripped from the blade's edge as the creature's head rolled somewhere behind the couch, his body twitching as fountains of bright green fluid poured out in waves.

Ten minutes passed when Jessica decided to come out of her bedroom, clothed in a brown jogging suit clutching an aluminum bat. She turned on the hallway lights, peering down in her living room to see green splotches all over her furniture and walls; standing in the midst of it all was the red-clad hunter. Jittery quakes wracked through her form, finding it difficult to breathe as she stared upon the beheaded beast lying on the floor.

"Ar... Argon..."

"Don't tell me you're going to cry over him." He spoke in a calm voice that heavily underlined his angered disposition. All he needed was a little push in the right direction.

"Who... who are you..."

"Doesn't matter. More importantly, have you ever thought about how you're going to pay those people back?"

"What... who do you mean?"

Humans love to play stupid.

"I think your life would be a suitable reprieve for compensation."

Is he going to do it? Yeah, he _has_ to.

"He forced me to do it! He would kill me if I didn't!"

"Excuses." Dante made a gesture with his hands to signify excessive talking.

"You don't know what I had to do so don't you dare judge me," she hollered, fingers trembling as she held the bat with a tightened grip.

"You're right, I don't." He turned around to face her, the rim of his irises were painted red as his mouth formed into a scowl. "But I do know _you_ are the guilty party here." Legs started to walk towards the stairs with purpose, steely sight focused with the presence to do harm after he sheathed Rebellion. About damn time, too.

"He made me do it! I can't help if-"

"How much money did he give you? Or the better question would be, how _much_ is it per person?" Dante reached the first step, Jessica pressing her back against a wall in preparation of his advances. "You think that money was worth the lives you've ruined?"

Her eyes narrowed yet they were still laced in fear, conjuring some excuse to justify her deeds.

"You _work_ as a social worker for fuck's sake. But I guess as long as you gained a profit, nothing else matters to you." Dante traveled halfway up the steps, heading straight towards her with Ebony still in his hand. She tried to go into the room but I commanded the shadows to bar the door from the inside, making escape for her impossible. The idea to jump over the banister flitted across her features but she decided against it, inching further down the hall away from his reach.

"Get out of my house!"

"I have no remorse to take your life-"

Oh yes. This is his normal. This is what embracing his true nature felt like. Eliminating obstacles creating trouble for him from their own selfish vices. It was so _unhealthy_ to restrain his urges just to let a couple of assholes walk free. Now he came to the realization that it wasn't worth keeping her alive. His moment of triumph was upon him. If the weight of guilt burdened him, well too bad. In the long run he would see the benefit of her un-life.

"-but that fortune does not belong to me."

Wait... what?

"Killing you would be the sensible thing to do, but I doubt that would being satisfaction to those you tormented."

Uh, yes it _would_ you stupid bitch. The victims can go to all those therapy sessions or get doped up on medication as an outlet for their mental pain. At least they wouldn't continue enduring a permanent imprisonment as a prostitute. Sometimes people need to learn to be thankful for getting out of whatever oppressive situation bestowed upon them. The emotions they harbored dragged on their quest of vengeance.

"So what do I do? Trap you here until the cops show up? Tell you more about the people you've tarnished? Bruise your soul til' you can no longer hold your head up high?"

Oh... _no._ Dammit no! Just end her life and be done with it. What's with all this waiting bullshit? I don't think those people would want her alive. Given the chance, they would more than likely _kill_ her themselves. Why won't he take one for his human team and get rid of this wretch?

"He was going to kill me. If I didn't do what he said he would sell me just the same!" She readied the bat to strike as he reached the top floor, Dante turning towards her with eyes ablaze in hate.

The room seemed a bit chillier then, the moon hiding behind the cover of clouds as if it shielded the light from the monster in disguise. But as it goes, there would be no need for such a thing. No bloodshed serving under the guise of righteous judgment would be served on these savages tonight. Nor is that interbred asshole going to embrace himself as a whole. That powerful beast would remain inside his cage, chained up and starved; simmering in rage while it watched the depravity of the world from the inside out. Those mortals who helped to keep the captives restrained walked away with freedom, with their lives.

And so would she.

She swung the bat in an arc, intending on hitting his head when he deftly caught it. He lifted his knee as he brought the club down, effectively breaking it into two. The splintered pieces were thrown over the stair ledge while she cowered in a corner and cried.

"You know, you humans love to act tough on the outside, then when you're confronted you want to run and cry like a child. What's your excuse with the water works? Are you feeling guilty or is it because you got caught?"

With a flushed face she started rambling about how her folks always worked and never paid attention to her growing up. And how she had to fight for herself after she ran away; Argon soon finding her and damn near smothering her with affection coupled with senseless fucking. How pathetic.

Not only did this privileged bitch have parents supplying her with basic human necessities, she figured since no one gave compliments on how pretty her hair looked she had to ruin lives for people who came from a broken home.

What a bunch of fucking petty cowards. From the both of them. She was nothing but a spoiled whore and he remained oblivious to the beautiful creature thirsting for release.

I didn't bother to stick around for the rest of her sob story, nor did I care to. I'm done.

Incident after incident brought about a similar scenario with me growing angrier at the outcome. Children were kidnapped and forced to work in labor camps under a demon's rule. Scam artists conned people out of their homes then used them for demonic hideouts. Humans worked under devil kingpins to distribute drugs. Each time the culprits were discovered the Hell-born were destroyed without warning and the mortals were left to their human judicial system. Many of them willingly chose to aid in the dirty deeds, yet they skipped punishment by his hand, even though he _shared_ half of their blood.

After the last bout I left his side. To this day I wonder in disbelief at his blatant refusal to kill mortals. As long as they weren't in cahoots with demons, they could fuck, rape, kidnap, torture and maim each other without interference on his behalf. Perhaps his heart was too soft to injure the weaklings or maybe it extended deeper than that. I'm assuming the death of his human mother had influence over his decision to exclude mortals from kissing the barrel of his gun. Still, why couldn't he break whatever oath her dead body stirred within him and disturb those who disrupted the peace, human and demon alike? I swear, that mongrel is a walking paradox at times.

Some weeks later I pass by a newspaper stand, magazines and books filled with manufactured men and women advertising cheap products. Amidst the colorful pages was a newspaper, bold red and black print showcasing a picture of a young brunette sitting on a bench with her head hung low.

**Jessica Rose**, **25**, **Sentenced to 20 years in Prison for Human Trafficking & Kidnapping**

I sneered in disgust as I kept walking. I knew it would come down to this. She probably didn't have any criminal record, making her skip the death penalty for a lenient punishment. In this case she got lucky with a _hard_ slap to the wrist, able to revel in freedom soon in these rapidly passing years. And if she remained a spoiled princess, she'll find some other method to make someone's life miserable once outside of those iron bars.

My legs continued to walk on a steady path, viewing the breathing contradictions who dared to carry on in ignorant bliss behind their masks. Such trifling degenerates leading interesting lives made me wonder about the hybrid and his eccentric way of living.

For all I assumed he felt pity towards them. Such fragile lives they led caused him to distrust them in all their foolishness, finding no need to destroy them for they were _proficient_ in doing it to themselves. Was he afraid of losing himself; scared to see what he truly is if he walked around without suppressing his emotions? Or maybe one day he wanted to walk among them in harmony, but he knew he could never receive the chance for long due to the unsettled monster lurking inside his shadows, ready to kill in void of notice.

I don't know, perhaps I never will.

There's only so much freedom to indulge in when restraint is an ever-common practice.

* * *

A/N: That moment when you feel some type of weird emotion about something you write...yup.

I picture Dark as this creature who "messes" with people who gets on his nerves, human and demon, big and small...oranges and apples :D

And I kinda wonder about that too. Dante won't kill humans even though he's half of one, no matter how bad, yet most demons get the axe quick. Hmm...


End file.
